The End
by Tweeter
Summary: Just a little story that came to me. What's going to happen when Jeanne finds out Tony isn't who he says he is?


_Disclaimer:_ The usual disclaimers apply - I don't own these characters, I'm not making money from this, no copyright infringement intended - you know the drill.

A/N: Just my little take on how things can fall apart. Many thanks to Rinne and Kate for the fast betas.

**The End, by Tweeter**

"The wrong cop died in that alley."

The words kept repeating in his head, the pain as sharp as when they were first spat at him. He could still see the hatred in Jeanne's eyes as she glared at him.

Tony sat in the dark in his living room, the beer in his hand untouched. How had things gone terribly wrong so quickly? Maybe he was fooling himself; maybe things hadn't been running as smoothly as he thought.

He'd been dying to talk to someone about the LaGrenouille operation for a long time, someone other than the Director. It killed him not to be able to open up to Abby, to talk to her about his growing feelings for the woman who started out as an assignment. He would have loved to get her thoughts on the whole ex-boyfriend stalker issue. Was he wrong to be angry at Jeanne for not letting him handle it? Was he right about Jeanne still having feelings for the other man? Abby would have been a good sounding board, someone he trusted to keep his head straight and focused on the issues, whatever they may be.

When they uncovered the plot to sell ARES, the secret mission became not-so-secret, but he still kept the relationship with Jeanne to himself. It was special; he didn't want the others making fun of him, taking bets on how long he would stick with this woman.

Watching John Carson bleed out in front of him hit Tony hard. He wanted to talk to Jeanne about it, but he couldn't; she didn't know he was an NCIS agent. He was sure she'd be supportive and comforting and he needed that so much. Instead he had shown up at her apartment, tired and uncharacteristically quiet, and he'd fallen asleep on her sofa.

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity and Tony barely had time to breathe, much less sneak off to see Jeanne. He managed a quick call and knew something was wrong, but she told him she'd talk to him when they could see each other. The team decided that out of respect they would attend Carson's funeral. Of course that's when the shit hit the fan.

To say he was shocked when he saw Jeanne at the funeral would be an understatement. When she saw him the surprised look on her face was replaced by realization, then happiness.

"Tony," she said, as she went up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "How did you find out?"

"Find out?" Tony was at a loss.

"That my ex-fiancé had been killed," she replied, smiling sadly at him. "I had to come, out of respect for what we had and for his family." She stroked his arm and smiled through the tears. "It's so good to have you here, though. I don't think I could stand much more of this alone."

"Your ex-fiancé?" Tony repeated weakly.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," a voice from behind broke into the awkward moment. Tony turned to see Detective Morris.

Morris reached out and shook Tony's hand. "It's good to see you again. I'm sure John would have been happy to know you and the rest of your team came to show your respect."

"Tony?" Jeanne looked at him, confused.

"You two know each other?" Morris asked.

"Well, uh, we," Tony stammered.

"Tony and I have been dating for the past six months," Jeanne explained. "I'm not sure how he found out, but he came here to provide moral support," she said. "I don't understand," she turned to Tony, "what did he call you?"

"Jeanne," Tony replied softly, "let's go over here, we need to talk."

Jeanne pulled her arm from his and backed away. "Talk about what, Tony? What's going on? Why did he call you by a different name?"

"Everything okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs had walked up to the small group. Tony closed his eyes at the sound of his Boss' voice. This was so bad.

"Everything's fine, Boss," Tony said, forcing a smile.

Gibbs smiled at Jeanne and extended his hand. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he said. "I work with Tony."

"Jeanne Benoit," she replied, turning back to Tony. "He called you by a different name, too."

"Any relation to Renè Benoit?" Ziva had joined them. Tony groaned; this was not how he wanted to tell Jeanne about his real job. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it, but this was certainly not one of the options.

"He's my grandfather," Jeanne replied, starting to get upset. "Tony, who are these people?"

"Jeanne," Morris said, "these are NCIS agents. We worked with them on John's last case. Tony was in the alley with John when he got shot, he tried to stop the bleeding."

"You knew John?" Jeanne's voice began to rise. "You were with him when he died? Who _are_ you?" she demanded angrily.

"Jeanne," Tony said urgently, "we really need to talk."

"I don't think this is the time or place, Tony," Gibbs said, looking around and seeing the curious looks they were attracting.

A woman in her late fifties walked up to Jeanne and put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Jeanne, dear," she said softly, "would you please sit next to me?"

"Of course, Mrs. Carson." Jeanne took the older woman's hand and followed her to the front of the church.

"What was that all about?" Detective Morris asked.

"Is that your mystery woman?" Ziva asked. "La Grenouille's granddaughter?"

Tony ran his hands through his hair. "Can we please drop this?"

Morris rejoined his fellow officers and the NCIS agents took seats in the back of the church. The ceremony seemed to last forever. Tony kept watching the back of Jeanne's head, wishing he could see her face. She sat stiffly at first, then put her arm around Carson's mother, comforting the older woman. The mourners stood respectfully as the coffin was wheeled to the door of the church, followed by Mrs. Carson, Jeanne and other members of Carson's family. Tony's heart fell as he saw Jeanne steadfastly refusing to look at him. At the door, six of Carson's friends, co-workers and family members lifted the coffin from the wheeled stand and carried it down the steps of the church to the hearse.

The mourners were clustered outside in little groups. Some went to their cars to join the funeral procession, while others who had to leave stopped to give the grieving family members their condolences. The NCIS agents stood off to the side, undecided on whether to join the procession to the cemetery or to give their condolences to Mrs. Carson and her family.

"Who the hell are you?" Jeanne's angry voice behind Tony interrupted the group's discussion.

"Jeanne," Tony's voice was pleading, "let's talk about this later, somewhere where we can be alone and have more time."

"I don't know if I want to be alone with you, Mr... What did you say your name was?" Jeanne glared at him.

"DiNozzo," Tony replied, "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Jeanne, please, I didn't mean for you to find out this way."

"Find out what?" she asked derisively, "that you've been lying to me for six months? That you've been pretending to be a college professor..."

"College professor?" McGee said in surprise.

"McGee," Tony's voice was dangerous. The younger agent closed his mouth before continuing his thought. Gibbs signaled the others to move away from the couple, but McGee and Ziva were too fascinated by what was unfolding to notice.

"What agency do you work for, Tony?" Jeanne asked. "Why wouldn't you tell me you were a Federal Agent? How do you know my grandfather?" She stood staring at him, her arms crossed in front of her.

"NCIS," Tony replied, "Naval Criminal Investigative Service..."

"Criminal Investigative?" Jeanne's eyes widened as she understood the implication. "You're investigating my grandfather, aren't you?" she said. "You're using me to spy on him? You're sleeping with me so you can get a line on his activities?"

"Jeanne, please," Tony reached for her arm but she pulled away. "Let's go somewhere private where we can talk about this reasonably."

"Reasonably?" Jeanne looked at him in amazement. "Are you serious? How can you possibly put a reasonable spin on this? You spent the last six months pretending to be someone you aren't. Lying to me, right to my face, telling me you loved me; that you wanted to take it slow because you didn't want to mess things up. Making me think you were different from all those other men who just want to get a woman into bed."

Ziva and McGee looked at each other in surprise.

"It's true, Jeanne," Tony said, his eyes begging for understanding, "I _do_ love you. Yes, this whole thing started out as an assignment," he continued quickly as Jeanne snorted in disgust, "but I found myself falling in love with you; I swear, you've got to believe me."

"Why, Tony?" she asked. "Our whole relationship was based on a lie so why should I believe you when you say you love me? "

"Because it's true," Tony replied earnestly. "I've never felt this way before. I meant it when I said I didn't want to treat our relationship the way I treated all the others."

"Sure," Jeanne laughed bitterly, "I'd hate to hear how you treated your other women." She glared at him, shaking her head. "I thought John was a monster for sleeping with my best friend, but at least he was drunk at the time. You were stone cold sober when you played the part of the charming college professor." She turned to leave.

"Jeanne, wait." Tony started after her.

She turned back, her eyes narrowed with rage. "The wrong cop died in that alley," she said bitterly, walking off to join the funeral procession.

Tony stood there in shock, watching her get into the limousine with Mrs. Carson. "You okay, Tony?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Tony shook his head. "No," he replied, "I'm not."

oOoOoOo

Tony ignored the soft knock on his door. He wasn't surprised when he heard the sound of the lock being picked and someone entering the room. What did surprise him was the person who just broke into his apartment.

"Tony?" Ziva's voice was soft, full of concern.

"That's breaking and entering, _Zeevah_," he said.

"I didn't break anything," she replied, walking over to sit next to him on the sofa.

"Make yourself at home." He gave her a half-hearted smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Talk about what?" he replied, laughing and taking a sip of his warm, flat beer. He made a face and put the bottle down on the coffee table. "About how I screwed up the one serious relationship I'll probably ever have?"

"I don't think it's the only serious relationship you'll ever have, Tony," Ziva replied. "Do you think it's irreparably damaged?"

Tony snorted. "Oh yeah, it's dead. She won't even talk to me. I've left messages, sent flowers, tried to see her at work – she called security on me, by the way – it's finished."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Ziva said softly, reaching up to stroke his hair. "I can tell you had strong feelings for her."

Tony looked at her to see if she was serious. She was smiling sadly, her eyes full of sympathy. She understood.

"I shouldn't have let myself fall in love," he said.

"You can't stop your heart from loving," she replied. "Sometimes, you meet someone who seems to understand you, to get the real you. I have a feeling you showed her the Tony DiNozzo that you keep locked up inside. The one you let peek out every once in awhile."

"You think you've seen that guy?" he asked.

Ziva nodded. "I do, when you don't think anyone's around or paying attention to you. When you're looking out for McGee at a messy crime scene, or being a complete gentleman, even though you're lying naked in bed, with your naked female partner; defying the Director to contact Gibbs." She smiled and took his hand. "Or when you're pretending you've got radiation poisoning as a diversion for your partner."

Tony laughed softly. "Gotta look out for your partner," he said.

"Mmmm hmm," Ziva agreed. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "If you need to talk, I'm always here to listen. Just let me know it's serious and I won't tease you," she said, smiling.

"Thank you, Ziva," Tony said, squeezing her hand. "I'm not good at talking, though. What I am good at, is avoiding." He stood up and looked down at her. "Would you like a beer?"

"Not one of those warm ones," she said, grimacing at the bottle on the table.

"Two cold beers, coming right up," Tony said, walking to the kitchen. Ziva watched him thoughtfully. He was hurting, she could tell by the way his smile seemed forced. She hoped that this didn't change him, turn him back into the womanizing joker he was before he started his undercover operation with the granddaughter of a notorious arms dealer. She liked the new Tony, the man who stepped up and took over when their Team Leader left them, and who graciously stepped down again when he returned.

Tony came back from the kitchen, two cold beers in his hand. He handed one to Ziva and sat down on the couch next to her.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asked.

"It's better than sitting in the dark drinking beer," she said.

Tony grinned and picked up the remote. "Thanks, Ziva," he said softly.

"You're welcome."


End file.
